When Lightning Strikes Twice
by PowerHouseoftheCell
Summary: When Lambo Bovino threw that grenade, this was definitely not what he expected. Time Travel. No Pairings.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **When Lightning Strikes Twice

**Author: **PowerHouseoftheCell

**Summary: **When Lambo Bovino threw that grenade, this was definitely not what he expected. Time Travel. No Pairings.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own in any way, shape, or form, KHR.

**Author's Note:** After a lot of editing, I am finally confident enough to publish my first fanfic. Huge thanks to Dr. Cultural Studies for giving me some advise!

_Stupid cow..._

_Ahahaha, kid, don't worry..._

_Lambo..._

For what seemed to be the millionth time this month, Lambo Bovino bolted upright, green eyes wide from the haunting memories of the past. Taking deep, shuddering breaths, he leaned against the wall to regain his bearings. He ran his fingers through his hair and swung his legs over the mattress, which squeaked a protest and groaned at the loss of weight. He padded across the moonlit room to the cheap bathroom, his feet making only a whisper of sound.

With a flick of his wrist, the dim light flickered and sputtered on, illuminating a dirty, cracked tub, toilet, and sink. Lambo walked over to the sink and peered into the smudged mirror, absently clearing the black locks from his face. A pair of eyes with deep bags peered back at him, taking in his less than impressive(_As a Guardian, even you must keep up an image._) appearance. His cheeks were gaunt, his mouth was set in a grimace, and his hair was stained with dirt.

His pursuers hadn't given up the chase for more than a week, forcing him to be on a constant move. He was just so _tired _of running. There was no safe haven, no safe _person_ to turn to. God knows where I-Pin was. Probably out making a name for herself with the Chinese Triads. Lambo hadn't talked to her in a few years since the base had been discovered. They had both run their separate ways, promising to keep in touch. Heh. Hard to keep in touch without a steady line.

Speaking of pursuers, he needed to check his weapons cache. It was never a good thing to be defenseless when everyone could be a possible enemy. Lambo, significantly steadier, strode back into the sad little bedroom, pulling out the only thing he allowed himself to keep. A leather, business-type suitcase, by all appearances just storing paperwork. Well, those were actually fake identities, but what was underneath was more important. Underneath the array of papers and deadly sharp pencils, a faded pink grenade sat innocently next to a sleek black Beretta. A last resort.

Lambo slowly unlatched the catches on the briefcase with a resounding _click._ Thumbing the worn leather, he lifted the cover, the hinges creaking from disuse. He lifted the papers, saying a mental goodbye to the unusual identities he had used over the years. The hidden compartment revealed itself and his breath caught in his throat for a second. He closed his eyes and sat back on his heels. This was it. He had tried _so_ _hard_ to keep on living for them. To keep the last Vongola guardian alive. It wasn't much of an existence though.

The hidden compartment sprang open, and time seemed to move in slow motion. He reached out and delicately cradled the worn pink grenade in his hand. This was the last one left of the batch Giannini had tampered with. Who knew what it did? With any luck, it would get him out of here to a better place.

He rose up to his full height, clutching the grenade like a lifeline. He pulled on his leather coat covered in stitches and rubber boots before something clacked in his pocket. A pair of horns(_I gave those to Lambo from ten years from now._), gray and worn. His real horns. He chipped away at the grey, revealing a silly little insult on the shiny yellow. All the same, he fixed them above his ears, a slow, lazy grin appearing in contrast to the tears shining in his eyes.

"I finally feel like myself again." he whispered to himself. "Might as well seal the deal." His right eye slid closed, the other one half open, smirking all the time. It quickly faded, though, in lieu of what exactly he was preparing for. His gloved hand brought the grenade to his teeth. _No going back now._

He ripped the pin away and threw the grenade down to his feet. Pink smoke filled the air, and all that was left was the steady staccato_ drip, drip_ of the leaky faucet.

It's not like he had anything to go back to, anyway

Lambo appeared with a small wheeze of pink smoke in a random alleyway shrouded in darkness. He blinked and his face turned green from the overwhelming _stench_ of this place. This was definitely not what he expected. The long, narrow alleyway had piles of garbage, some of which he expected either belonged to a bathroom or a graveyard. Probably in the past then. In his time, even the third world countries had cleaned up their places so they at least weren't _this_ bad. He picked his way through, inwardly wincing when his boots squelched in a pile he hadn't been able to avoid. He could practically taste the stench.

_It was __**not**__pleasant._

Oh look, he could hear voices now. And gunshots. Lucky him. He skidded to a stop and experimentally brought his fingers up to his face to try to summon his flames. Tiny green lightning danced over his fingertips, bringing a rare smile of amusement to his face. To this day, whenever it was, his lightning was still as playful as a little kitten.

The smile soon gave way to a deep frown. The gunshots were growing in volume as well as frequency. He could estimate roughly eight pursuers. Low level mafia. They were all chasing one man. Civilian? Not dead or screaming, so either he was used to this, or he was somewhat trained in self-defense. Maybe a civilian with special abilities at best.

Tsu- _His former boss_ had drilled into all of the Guar-_them_ that civilians upheld the world so the mafia could work underneath them, and so had to be protected. He swore and broke into a run, ignoring the constant squishing from underneath his boots. As he broke into the streets, he noted that some of the buildings looked vaguely familiar. The voices began to clear as he got closer. They were speaking Italian, so past Italy.

Just his luck. He stopped and swore underneath his breath. No matter when he was in Italy, he was going to get targeted by the mafia because he looked like Lampo, the first Lightning Guardian. Okay. So he needs to get a haircut and some makeup first. Then he needs to get the hell out of Dodge and go to another country. A sudden shout broke through his thoughts. He swore again and began running faster.

He can do all of that. After he saves the civilian. Right.

Lambo turned the corner, absently noting that they were paved with cobble and had occasional piles of horse dung. Early 1900's to mid-1800's then. His breaths tasted like smoke and ash. Late 1800's to mid-1800's. He swore under his breath. Even worse, Lampo was probably still _alive_. With any luck, he could be passed off as illegitimate kid.

After about five minutes more of running, the mafia thugs came into view. The civilian had apparently been knocked unconscious, and the idiot thugs surrounded him in a loose circle.

"Heh. Guess the brat can't even handle a small beating. He's all talk. Let's rough him up a bit and leave him as a little...message." one of them sneered, the others murmuring their agreement. Guessing from their appearance, he could take them without using his flames. Lambo broke into a sprint, jumping onto one of their backs before they even saw him.

They were slow, idiotic nincompoops, he concluded after looking over their unconscious bodies. It had taken him about two minutes to dispose of them all. Heck, even the civilian landed a few hits beforehand, it looked like. One of them was limping, another had a crooked nose, and the leader favored his left shoulder. What kind of _pathetic_ family hired these people? Lambo scoffed and kicked one of them in the ribs, eliciting a groan.

Finally, he turned to face the still unconscious man. "You probably need to go to a-" he said before freezing. In front of him, covered in a variety of bruises, was a man who could probably pass for his twin if he was ten years younger.

He had just saved Lampo, the very man he was supposed to avoid.

Just his luck.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: **When Lightning Strikes Twice

**Author: **PowerHouseoftheCell

**Summary: **When Lambo Bovino threw that grenade, this was definitely not what he expected. Time Travel. No Pairings.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own in any way, shape, or form, KHR.

**Author's Note: ***squeals of happiness* I didn't expect this to get so many views so fast! Thank you for your positive responses! Anyways, I should be updating this each Wednesday.

Lambo slapped a hand over his eyes, taking a deep breath. He peeked through a gap before abruptly closing his eye. Still there. The breath whooshed out from him. Attempting to ignore the very obvious problem, Lambo sifted through the thugs' clothing, managing to find a measly 150 lira **(1)**, six knives, and a handgun. He pocketed them all in the inside of his coat before turning his attention to the problem at hand.

"I guess there's no choice but to take you there anyways. However-"His eyes swept the exposed road, taking note of the crowded buildings. "I still have no idea where the hospital is." Around this time, the hospitals were taller and wider than most of the houses, so- "Up to the roofs we go."

Lambo slung Lampo over his shoulder, grunting at the weighty burden. He spotted a balcony about ten feet up with an overgrowth of vines spilling from the roof. Perfect. He backed up to the other side of the street and eyed the crumbling brick with distrust. Grimacing, he sprinted so fast he was just a blur before leaping five feet up onto the wall. Lambo slammed into the brick, his hands desperately searching for a grip. He found a sizable crack, blinking the stars from his eyes and wheezing. Next time, he'll just climb the damn wall.

His fingers were ruined, but thankfully his fingerless gloves had taken the brunt of the damage. He had at last made it to the roof. Lambo breathed heavily, taking in the admittedly gorgeous view. The sun was just starting to rise, casting a light glow onto the low buildings. However, time was running short and he still didn't know where the hospital was. His eyes scanned the horizon for what should be an obvious find.

Lambo's gaze finally caught onto a large, dark blob. That would hopefully be some sort of medical facility. He sighed as the distance totaled to be six miles west of him. Scratch that, it _better _be a clinic of some sort. Shading his eyes, he began the arduous journey across the rooftops to the building. Lampo was still a pain two hundred years in the past.

Half an hour later, the sun beamed innocently upon the panting man. Lambo was crouched down with his hands on his knees in front of the hospital, trying to catch his breath. Lampo had been unceremoniously dumped as soon as they reached solid ground. Surprisingly, the guy was still unconscious even after the rough journey. Which, he winced, rubbing his leg, he would be feeling tomorrow. Lambo glared reproachfully at the bruised man at his feet. If this came back to haunt him…

Lambo finally straightened up, examining his appearance. His boots were caked with-you know what? He didn't even want to know. But other than the overall scruffiness the came from the run, the only thing that stood out were his ruined digits, which were easily hidden. Once again, he picked up the green haired man, staggering from both exhaustion and the sudden weight shift. It looks like his little guest was waking up.

Lambo-much gentler now that his burden could feel conscious pain-deposited the Lightning Guardian just inside the doorway before vanishing with a gust of wind. Pausing, he listened with half an ear at the pitter patter of young nurses scrambling to accommodate the new patient. Lambo, assured now that his predecessor was safe, broke into a fast run, weaving around the few early risers out and about.

A block away, he settled into a casual stroll, snagging an abandoned hat to shadow his face. After five minutes more of walking, he reached a little shopping center. Peering around, Lambo saw a produce stall, a tavern, and a little general store. He quirked an eyebrow at the poor pickings of the stall, dismissed it, and ambled over to the general store, where a cute little open sign was displayed on the plain wooden door. A little bell chimed as he entered, alerting a cheerful looking clerk.

"Hello, sir! How can I help you on this fine day?" the clerk chirped, smiling widely. Lambo could probably afford a loaf of bread in addition to the disguise. The hat would have to do for now, since obviously the little shop had no chance of selling makeup. Did they even have makeup now? They definitely had powders- maybe rouge? And that stuff was only for nobles. So no disguise…Well, he could get a haircut. The best he could do was to eliminate the hair similarities. That's just sad.

"…Excuse me? Sir?" the clerk was right in front of him now, peering up curiously. Lambo snapped out of his planning trance before putting on a sheepish smile. He must be really out of it to be startled by a _civilian_.

"A-ah, sorry. I just need some b-bread and water, p-please." Lambo stammered out, forcing a tinge of pink to his cheeks. The clerk beamed up at him, the sparkles around the smile bringing back memories of the Kyok-_a scarily cute woman_ of his past. After about ten minutes of mostly one-sided small talk, he got his meager meal, depleting his funds to 100 lira. Enough, he hoped, for a room at a cheap motel.

Inwardly bemoaning his fate, Lambo exited the shop, hearing the little bell again and the clerk's cheerful goodbye. The market square was now teeming with people, all haggling and arguing, though they stopped to spare a look at his strange clothing. Most just shrugged and turned back to their business, but the more persistent stares left him uncomfortable at being so exposed and recognizable.

Lambo turned a sharp corner into an alleyway that looked significantly cleaner than the one he had appeared in. Spotting a bare corner, he swiped a cursory glance around for escape routes and vantage points. The alleyway was probably one of worst places to be on the defensive, but Lambo wouldn't be staying for long if everything went according to plan. He settled in the corner before idly thinking how _humiliating_ it would be if someone found him here. A 25 year old man sitting in the corner of a dirty (but still cleaner) alleyway, nibbling on a loaf of bread and sipping at water. In addition, the material of his clothing suggested he was once a peculiarly dressed noble. A runaway perhaps? He could work with that.

The next few minutes were spent formulating a plan should he come to face Vongola Primo, which would probably happen whether he like it or not. He couldn't tell any lies, but half-truths would work. Those would probably serve to make him an even more suspicious character, but the Vongola _could not _get his future knowledge.

It would not save them either way. Lambo learned that the hard way. He had a theory that while the Ten Years Later equipment not only sent them back and forth in time, but created offshoot realities in which the bazooka fired. The normal reality would continue without his interference. The one he meddled in became a parody in which the future knowledge was at work.

_All in all, Lambo had been summoned thrice by the bazooka in his reality. Once, when he was fifteen and at war. He had forewarned that Reborn, but the next time he was summoned at age seventeen, the Reborn had regarded him suspiciously like he had never seen Future Lambo. The third time was a couple months ago, when he appeared during the Ring Battles._

_Lambo vaguely recalled losing and almost dying in his in the past, but it would not happen this time. Seeing his old fami-__**group**__ had sent pangs of guilt, sadness, and longing in an almost physical pain. They were still so, so innocent. They still had hope and worried exasperation in their eyes instead of hopelessness _

_Lambo had disappeared before the battle was done, leaving him worried about the outcome of them. It had been one of his final snapping points. It reminded him of what was gone and could never come back. There were times when he considered suicide __**("Promise me. Promise me you'll live for all of us."),**__ but he never broke a promise._

Lost in memories of the past, Lambo never noticed the tall man quietly entering the alleyway until it was too late.

**1) Lira used to be the official currency of Italy. **


	3. Chapter 3

**Title: **When Lightning Strikes Twice

**Author: **PowerHouseoftheCell

**Summary: **When Lambo Bovino threw that grenade, this was definitely not what he expected. Time Travel. No Pairings.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own in any way, shape, or form, KHR.

**Author's Note: **My exams are coming, so don't be surprised if there's a late chapter or no chapter at all next week. Sorry everybody!

OoO

Asari studied his target at the end of the alleyway. The high sun cast shadows on the man, making it almost impossible to gage his body language. But Giotto wanted to see this man, and so there was no choice but to approach and hope for the best.

Asari aligned his sword with his back the best he could, trying to make it as inconspicuous as possible while still ready. This man may have saved Lampo, but he still took down eight armed thugs. Asari subtly changed his body language to 'friendly' and brought his natural cheerfulness to the surface. Unfortunately, while he wasn't ashamed of the he dressed, it still made many people wary. Though not as much as this stranger. The distinctive leather coat the shadow man wore was the only way they found him.

Inwardly wrinkling his nose at the garbage in the alleyway, Asari tiptoed around the garbage, careful not to wake the young man. As he walked closer on silent feet, he was surprised to find that the man was no more than a few years his junior, only 24 or 25. Asari went down into a crouch, careful not to let any of his robes touch the ground. He tilted his head, trying to get a better perspective of the man only ten feet away from him now.

And froze.

Asari's mouth gaped open in a rare moment of pure and utter shock. His eyes glazed over as the cogs in his mind spun around and around, trying to make sense of the all too familiar appearance of the man in front of him. How was this possible? The tattoo, the hair, the face. It all belonged to someone six years younger than Asari, someone who had _never_ mentioned a living relation.

In front of him, asleep and unaware, was someone who, with a decent haircut and change of clothing, could pass for Lampo's twin.

Asari screwed his eyes shut and his jaw closed with a soft snap. Unfortunately, this was enough to startle the young man out his unwanted nap, and a green eye opened just a slit.

OoO

_There was a teenager, barely 18, sitting alone on an abandoned swing set in an old park. It was a cold, brittle day, and even the Sun was gone. The Clouds convened in a giant mass, covering what was left of the bright, blue Sky. The cold wind blew through, stirring up dead leaves and shaking old branches. The teen just sat there, slowly swinging his legs back and forth. The chains protested and the cracked rubber seat groaned, but still the teen sat. His green gaze was unblinking and solemn, uncharacteristically serious for someone his age. He blinked once, seemingly in a trance._

_His dull eyes drank in the sad state of what should be a children's heaven. What had been. Past tense. Past. Gone. He straightened up slowly, and eyes slowly lowering to his hands. The battles had scarred his hands, and the lines on his palms seemed to glance mockingly at him. He brought his hands closer to his face, still staring at them._

_Underestimation had been his greatest asset. No matter how hard he trained, they still had years of harsh experience and brutal lessons. So, he played up his weakness. He let it swallow his strength, and when he needed to fight, shed it like an old skin. Like a mask._

_Half the fool, half the Guardian._

_Perhaps...if he could make another weakness? Maybe that could work. It would have to be easy to keep up, easy to fix. He couldn't do anything with his limbs, for he would come to get used to it and it would be hard to shed and put back on. That left his face._

_He thought back to the Inheritance Succession, back to a man who didn't even try. They looked too much alike for their own good. He could enhance this, make it a weakness and a show of strength. _

_He slowly stood up, swing forgotten. His right eye slowly slid closed, and a lazy smile stretched across his lips. It felt tight and uncomfortable, but this was-_

A soft snap sounded, startling Lambo alert. He inwardly cursed himself for letting his guard down. Keeping his breathing even, he opened his left eye just enough to assess the situation. He was boxed in, with most of his escape routes being blocked by a tall man in a crouch just five feet away. He could vaguely make out a tall hat and dark eyes. The man had long, white and blue robes flowing just past his knees. While this could be the First Generation Guardian, he would keep his hopes up until-

"Hello! I'm Ugetsu Asari. I'm glad you are awake now. By the way, why were you sleeping in an alleyway, if I may ask? It doesn't seem very uncomfortable." Asari said, a wide, but gentle smile appearing on his face. Lambo couldn't respond. While he seemed to be a nice guy, he brought up painful memories of the same smile on a different face. But, seeing as the Rain Guardian already knew he was awake, he might as well open his eye.

Lambo's eye discreetly observed Asari. His instincts told him that this wasn't a coincidence, and they were rarely wrong. While nowhere near the level of Hyper Intuition, they had been honed by six years of running and fighting. Asari's body language was friendly, but he could tell he waiting for a sign of attack.

Lambo began to stand up, wincing at the sore muscles from his little adventure. Sleeping in an alleyway probably hadn't helped matters either. Asari stiffened just a little bit, hands twitching as he fought the urge to grab his weapon.

"Hello, Asari. My name is Lambo. I was sleeping in the alleyway because I was tired, of course." Lambo stated, voice bland even as it was rough from disuse. Asari's eyes narrowed. Even though, Lampo and Lambo looked alike, they were nothing like each other in personality. But they both had that hidden aura of power underneath their skin. Asari, upon realizing what he was doing relaxed his face again and smiled.

"Ah, do you need a place to stay? My b- er, friend, would be happy to accommodate you. But," he said cheerfully, pretending obliviousness. "It's certainly peculiar how alike you look to another friend of ours."

Lambo's mind raced, trying to find a way out of this. Asari couldn't learn of the future, but he couldn't tell any blatant lies. If the future and past rain Guardians were as alike as Reborn had said, then Asari would be a natural hitman, observant and deadly. He would be able to tell no matter how well Lambo could lie.

For now, all Lambo could do was try to deflect Asari. "Oh? That is strange. Though I think it is unwise to invite a stranger into your home." Now what could he do? Asari would eventually ask if he has a relation to Lampo, which is impossible to deny because of the resemblance. He _did_, but they weren't exactly related closely. Furthermore, it was a lie. _But_, Lambo could say he was a descendant of Lampo's father. He was forced to move to Japan when he was five. _Not a lie._ He moved back to Italy because his family had...died. It wasn't a perfect story, but it would have to do.

"Well, we can take care ourselves, but thank you for your advice. However, my friend was quite set on meeting you, and I promised I would bring you back. You don't even have to stay, just talk with him." Asari explained, eyes curving up into a smile, hiding the nervousness he felt. While he was certain he could take the young man, it would be...difficult, considering the resemblance.

"While I am flattered by your request, I have plans." Lambo lied, though already knowing that Asari wouldn't take no for an answer. He dipped his hands into his pockets, where he had placed his horns after the battle with the thugs. There hadn't been a need to distinguish himself further from the Italians who had already been giving him strange glances.

At this, Asari's smile slipped and his eyes hardened. "I apologize, but I don't break promises." Lambo eyes widened at the impressive speed of the man, even it was only a few feet. He barely ducked underneath what would've been a blow to the head that would've knocked him unconscious. Close combat was not his ideal location.

Lambo's sharp reflexes only kept him barely ahead of Asari, who was throwing incapacitating blows one after the other. They were sharp, fast, and faintly glowing with rain flames. Lambo cursed under his breath as he ducked and weaved around the blows, knowing there was no way to escape this unless he used his lightning flames. Unfortunately, there was no way he could hit Asari without seriously wounding him. And so, with a resigned look in his eye, Lambo restrained himself from dodging the blow to the back of his head, and the world faded to black.


	4. Chapter 4

**Title:** When Lightning Strikes Twice

**Author:** PowerHouseoftheCell

**Summary:** When Lambo Bovino threw that grenade, this was definitely not what he expected. Time Travel. No Pairings.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own in any way, shape, or form, KHR.

**Author's Note: **Okay. Since there was no update last week, early update this week! Yay! I'm well aware that some of the stuff in my chapters is kind of awkward, but I'm working on it, trust me. Hopefully it'll get better as I go on. Anyways, enjoy!

OoO

Asari lost focus on everything but the fight, his eyes chilling and narrowing into a calculating gaze. He struck quickly and precisely, gracefully darting around the stranger. It was a fast-paced battle, but Asari had the advantage of his flames. He had concentrated them at his fingertips so that if he touched any of the man's skin, it would instantly knock him out. It was certainly a peculiar battle though.

Asari knew that he had left many openings when striking, but the brunette hadn't taken any of them. He had instead focused on dodging every one of the enhanced blows. The man was barely faster than him, but that was a notable accomplishment. But it was still a bare margin, so it was easy to back him into a corner. It was a good thing too. Asari was quickly running out of energy to fight.

He could tell when the man realized there was no way out of this. Asari mentally calculated how long it would take to pull out his blade. He would need a cheap distraction for at least two seconds. Asari threw a jab to the stranger's midriff, and after he dodged, aimed a chop at his head. Catching just a flash of the green stone-like eyes, which seemed strangely resigned. Asari was mildly shocked when the tips of his fingers brushed the head of the other man.

The leather-clad man crumpled as Asari caught him, thanks to his reflexes. His brow furrowed as he stared at his hands, the last of the blue flames whispering into the air. Why had the man allowed him to hit him? Asari knew that the stranger wasn't tired. He hadn't slowed down at all until the last second. Maybe he was like Giotto, who never attacked someone unless he had to. Was there nothing else the man could do?

Shrugging, Asari knelt down and scooped the mysterious stranger up. He tossed him over his shoulder and a crease appeared on Asari's face. This man was far too light for someone his height. How strange. Well made clothes, poor weight.

Giotto would want to hear about this.

OoO

"-long has he been unconscious?" a deep voice murmured in an obvious attempt to keep Lambo asleep. Lambo stiffened, then forced himself to relax on the medical bed. This was the past. This was not him_._ This _could not be him._This could only be-

_Oh shit._

A hand landed on his shoulder and Lambo finally cracked his eye open. Blurry blonde hair filled his vision before the image sharpened. He sat up and caught the amber gaze of a man lounging on a chair on his left. "I see you finally decided to join us. I apologize for the way we brought you here, but it could not be helped. My name is Giotto. I believe you have yet to introduce yourself."

Lambo debated on what to tell them. He couldn't outright lie, of course, but he could tell technical truths. "My name…is Lambo." He rasped, his voice once again rough from his period in the black. Giotto's eyes widened ever so slightly, and then narrowed again.

"I see. And you wouldn't happen to know a Lampo, would you? Or _Signore_ Bovino **(1)**?" he questioned carefully, watching Lambo with searing eyes.

Lambo weighed his words carefully, knowing this subtle interrogation would most likely determine his fate. "Yes. I know of both of them." He meticulously intoned it so that it would seem curious and oblivious to the impromptu quizzing. If possible, Giotto's eyes narrowed even more.

"You know _of _them? I wonder how one conveniently rescues someone they know _of_." Giotto stood and walked to the foot of the bed, his shoes clicking ominously in the lavish bedroom. His sight never left Lambo, whose eye were shadowed by his hair. He could make out a small tattoo underneath his left eye in the shape of a hash mark **(2)**.

The hair on the back of Lambo's neck rose with the thick tension in the air. His jaw clenched from the sheer aura of _power_ resonating from the mafia don. "I was exploring Italy. I heard yelling and I investigated. Simple as that." he gritted out, trying not to tense up from the pressure.

"You are new to Italy? I must say this can't be the best welcome, but the way you rescued my, ah, friend, is quite suspicious. Why did you come to Italy?" Giotto mused with a dangerous air.

"To escape."

"Escape what?"

"My hunters."

"Why were they hunting you?"

"I was the last of their prey."

"Their prey?"

"My family."

As they got further into the interrogation, Lambo's face had darkened and contorted, as if escaping from his 'hunters' was the very last thing he wanted to do, but had no choice. Giotto didn't know how to feel about this. On one hand, he was a suspicious character with unknown motives. On the other, he was a person at the end of their rope, pursued until he took the least tasteful option-other than death. If what Lambo was saying was true-and Giotto's Hyper Intuition said he was, but leaving something out- then these people had tracked down and wiped out his family, or _famiglia_; of which was correct he wasn't sure.

Giotto gave Lambo a hard stare before sighing. The tension lowered almost immediately, but it was still there. "I will believe you. However, you are still haven't proved you are not a threat. I will be back later for more questioning. Stay in this room. Or else." The last part was added as an afterthought. Giotto gave him a meaningful look and strode out of the room. Asari, who he had not noticed was there, followed him. The door shut with a resounding click.

OoO

"So, Giotto, what is your opinion of Lambo?" Asari asked, walking slightly behind him. "Was is wise to leave him by himself?" Asari caught up to him, his hands hidden in their sleeves. Giotto's Boss Mode, as they called it, had dropped. In its place was a tired, stressed man, trying to do what he thought was best.

Giotto paused in the hallway, considering his answer. "He...will not hurt us." He resumed walking across the plush carpets. "He has been telling us the truth so far. Perhaps not all of it, but I didn't really expect him to. So far, we have been the bad guys. For no real reason, we have kidnapped and questioned him."

They turned the corner, and a chandelier flickered, throwing shadows across the corner. "But we _do _have a reason. He has garnered our attention through his rescue of Lampo, who is part of a powerful _famiglia_. He couldn't have expected no repercussions for his actions." They stopped in front of a white door. The guard in front of them nodded and stepped aside as Giotto pulled a key from the inside of his cloak.

"But still." Giotto frowned slightly and turned the key in the lock. Asari didn't comment as the door swung open silently and revealed a white room filled with medical supplies.

As soon as Giotto had discovered Lampo was at the hospital through Alaude, he had hastily transferred him back to the mansion and into the medical ward. He had been conscious and complaining, feeling that a fractured rib and several bruises and lacerations was not reason for him to be moved (read: forced) into the medical ward. But they bandaged his wounds and kept him under watch all the same.

"The awesome me is _fine_, Gio-nii! There's no need for you to sick those nurses on me! If you wanted to have time to eat more sweets, you should've just snuck away to y- mph!" Giotto laughed nervously, and switched his glances between the pouting Lampo, who was trying to remove his hand from his mouth, and the angry nurses, who were now eyeing him like they would very much like to find where he could've gone.

"Ah, Nurse Isabella and Sofia, you can go now. I need to talk to Lampo in private." Not really, but those nurses were scary. Mafia bosses? Pft. Fighting to take down corrupt families? No problem. Strict medical professionals? _No way._

The nurses reluctantly left, casting suspicious glances at Giotto. Asari simply smiled in the background and gently closed the door. The instant they were gone, Lampo gave Giotto a serious look.

"The man who rescued me, who is he?" Lampo asked. "Does he have an ulterior motive?" Giotto shook his head and sighed. While Lampo was undoubtedly spoiled and childish, he could drop it sometimes and act his age. He didn't like to see it, because it meant that things threatened the family so bad he couldn't afford to be weak.

"His name is Lambo. As far as I can tell, he doesn't. However, he knows 'of' both you and your father. Do you know him?" Giotto inquired.

Lampo stared down at his sheets for a long time. "No, I don't. But it is possible he's related to me. My father-he...had a sweetheart...before he met my mother. He doesn't talk about her very much, but as far as I can tell, they were very close. It is possible..." he trailed off thoughtfully, clenching the blankets tightly.

The room settled into a tense, thoughtful silence as each member thought of what this could mean.

OoO

**1) **_Signore_ in Italy refers to lordships. My theory is that the Bovinos were originally a part of the Vongola, but drifted away when Giotto retired.

**2) **Where I'm from, we call the # hash or pound marks. I really didn't want to say hashtags.


	5. Chapter 5

**Title:** When Lightning Strikes Twice

**Author:** PowerHouseoftheCell

**Summary:** When Lambo Bovino threw that grenade, this was definitely not what he expected. Time Travel. No Pairings.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own in any way, shape, or form, KHR.

**Author's Note: **Urk…I am sorry about the late update, but my brain was stuck. Sorry folks, but I may have to do an update every other week. The characters aren't really cooperating right now. Happy Holidays?

OoO

As soon as Giotto left the room, Lambo threw back the sheets. His coat was gone, as was his necklace, gloves, and boots. This left him in his white shirt and black jeans, with no weapons. He frowned and swung his legs over the side of the bed, feeling naked without the familiar stretch of leather hanging off his body. The room he was in was rich, though sparse. No doubt that the furniture was nailed down, too.

Lambo stood up and took in the furniture and possible exits. There was a dresser, a vanity, the bed, a chair, and a wide, landscape window. He rummaged around the drawers in the dresser, finding nothing but dust. His face smoothed out as he drew up plans in his mind, discarding any that involved a lot of fighting. He was in no state to battle.

Lambo sat down in the chair, his foot tapping steadily in the silence. He had to somehow escape while alerting the least amount of guards possible. And he had to do it soon. There was no set time for when Giotto was coming back, and he had barely managed to answer the questioning. Only the vague metaphor had thrown Giotto off his path, but the don was still dangerously close.

Striding over to the window, Lambo threw back the curtains and tested his weight against the glass and frame. As he expected, there was barely any give, both being of good quality. The glass was likely proof of anything he could think of, but…it was worth a try. This was the only plan he could think of with a chance of no combat.

Reaching for the flames that pulsed within his core, Lambo concentrated on his will to escape. A small amount leaked out and flowed to his finger. The digit glowed green before tiny sparks of Lightning flame formed and danced in a vaguely sharp shape. With a surgeon's precision, he cautiously touched the flame blade to the glass, which resisted for a second, then slowly gave way to a thick line. He dragged it in a small square, which fell into his waiting palm.

Lambo slowly cut out four more of equal or more size, which left a third of the window missing. He was both relieved and somewhat nervous about his success. While he did have his share of luck, things never went this well whenever he made plans. Never. However, if he could get out of the familiar grounds, then maybe he could avoid it. Inwardly, he scoffed as he leapt down into the courtyard.

_Yeah, right._

OoO

Giotto looked around at his summoned Guardians, a serious look in his eyes. They immediately straightened, their hands hovering over their chosen weapons. Whenever Giotto had that look, it meant something major or life changing was coming. Everyone except Lampo was here, and Asari had a knowing if somewhat confused look in his gaze.

Giotto's hands steepled underneath his chin. "As you know, Lampo was beaten by thugs from the Zanna _famiglia_." Here, a somewhat hard look came into Giotto's eyes, as well as everyone except Alaude and Daemon. "We discovered the man who saved him, and I personally questioned him. He is a foreigner called Lambo," The Guardians' eyes narrowed. "He bears a rather significant resemblance to Lampo, and it has come to our attention that he may be related to him."

There was a pregnant silence at this statement. All of them had either estranged or dead family, so this bore a lot of weight in their minds. The silence was broken by Daemon.

"Nufufufu, is that it? Because I-"

Daemon was promptly interrupted by the silent flashing of an alarm. Giotto's expression tightened as he reached out for the button that would call for the guards to apprehend Lambo. A hand reached out and grabbed his. Giotto looked up to see Daemon smirking a little bit, and wasn't surprised by the next words that came out of his mouth.

"Allow me, Primo. I will not hurt him too badly." Giotto inclined his head and nodded once, and then Daemon was gone with a small cloud of mist.

OoO

Lambo crouched low in a tree, eyeing the guards cautiously. There were guards patrolling every inch of the walls, but they didn't seem to be looking too hard. It would be a bit difficult, but not impossible. He was about twenty feet from the walls, which he could possibly make a hole through and escape. The plan was full of dark spots, but it was the best he could come up with in this short amount of time. He could feel the margin of escape trickling away, making him feel somewhat edgy and restless.

Lambo's eye narrowed as his sixth sense shrieked in alarm, jumping up and back onto another a branch. His gaze snapped to the spear that would've been where his foot was before backflipping onto the ground, avoiding another spear. His eye flashed with panic for a second before the emotion cleared when he caught sight of a low, thick, mist creeping across the ground. Lambo darted to side, his mind racing with the implications.

A muffled laugh seemed to echo eerily around him, the sound bouncing around. The mist came faster now, rising and becoming opaque, until it was towered over him and obscured the wall and tree. He could barely see the rest of his body. Shadows danced across the fog, disappearing as quickly as they quickly as they came.

_What a showoff. _

Lambo cleared his mind before bringing the memory of the wall and tree into his mind. The guards, he guessed, were illusions. He closed his eye, banishing the image of the fog and shadows, and opened it again.

There, against the tree, was Daemon Spade, his scythe firmly in the ground. An oncoming rush of anger and _hate_ rocked through Lambo before he forcibly tamped down the hissing emotions. It would do no good to show his hand if he was hiding it. It would be difficult, especially since this is the guardian that specialized in lies and trickery. The man in question pushed himself off the tree and smirked at Lambo, mockingly clapping his hands.

"_Very_ nice, 'Lambo.' You're the first outsider to break through my illusion. So tell me," Daemon vanished and his voice whispered into Lambo's ear. "how is that?"

The indigo tinted haze poured back into the air as if it were never gone. Four Daemons rippled into existence, stepping forward in unison in a line. Scythes shimmered into place for the outer two, who slammed the end into the ground. Vines erupted from the ground and quickly wrapped around his arms and legs, pulling him to the ground.

For a moment, the same haze seemed to seep into his mind, forcing his painful memories to surface of being _helplesswherearetheyletmeGO_. Lambo mentally snarled, an almost feral look coming into his eye. He ripped the vines, even as they grew back and attempted to restrain him again. The mist was quickly evaporating and the Daemons seemed to melt into the ground. Lambo stood, taut like a bowstring and panting, and searched for the real Mist Guardian.

OoO

The illusionist was in a crouch on the tree, his scythe resting across his knees. An unreadable expression flitted through his face before it smoothed out again. Daemon watched as the brunet looked for him before the trickster mask slid back into place.

In one smooth motion, Daemon leapt down from the branch and hefted his scythe over his shoulder. He walked with silent feet to the irate man and brought the weapon up, spinning it so the blunt end was facing the other male. Soundlessly, he slammed into the back of the haunted man's head, watching him crumple onto the ground.

Daemon slung him over his shoulder, his scythe evaporating as if it were never there. A thoughtful look came into his eyes as he glanced at the unconscious man. Physically, he would never beat the other in a fair fight, but mentally…how bad could your mind state be that it lost you the battle?

Daemon mentally shrugged and walked back into the mansion, sidestepping the maids and butlers that littered the giant house. He walked up to an detailed painting of a summer tree and, after making sure no one was watching, pressing his ring into the knothole and activated his flames. The hidden door swung open with nary a squeak, revealing a dark stone staircase leading downwards, lit by oil lamps.

His footsteps were made even louder by the echoes as he went down stair after stair, eventually coming upon a row of dark doors. Daemon once again pressed his ring against a keyhole, and the door creaked open. The dark room had only a cot and a small pot. He laid 'Lambo' down on the cot and walked out, not giving him a backwards glance.

Daemon sealed the door once again, then teleported to the tree painting and sealed the knothole. He then quickly walked to the opposite wing to where Giotto's office was to report.

He paused, a glimmer of humor coming into his eyes. For once, Daemon had kept his promise of not hurting their guest.

Too bad.


	6. Chapter 6

**Title:** When Lightning Strikes Twice

**Author:** PowerHouseoftheCell

**Summary:** When Lambo Bovino threw that grenade, this was definitely not what he expected. Time Travel. No Pairings.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own in any way, shape, or form, KHR.

**Author's Note: **As promised, new chapter! I certainly didn't expect to need it, but this week has been hard, to say the least. Anywho, enjoy!

By the way, I've found the perfect song for Lambo's back-story. It's Lightning Strike by Snow Patrol. Go listen to it!

OoO

Lambo stared blankly up at the cement ceiling. Twenty minutes had passed since he had woken up in his new cell, which was far less luxurious than his previous lodgings. Apparently, not only had his reckless, hurried escape failed miserably, but he was now _far_ more suspicious. Suspicious enough for Alaude to interrogate, he'd hazard.

His green eye looked like set glass in his socket, showing none of his churning nerves. His thoughts twisted and tumbled over each other, trying to find a viable way out of this. Daemon wasn't even an experienced interrogator(breaking someone's mind didn't count), and he _felt _the edges of his consciousness brushing with the illusionist's. Lambo wasn't quite sure what had surfaced, but hopefully it wasn't anything too revealing.

Mu-His Mist Guardian had been sure to give them all lessons in resisting flames of his kind, though they hadn't been completed. Lambo hadn't met an illusionist great enough to actually get through his outer walls, but this showed that not only would he have to strengthen his outer walls, but to build up his inner walls even higher.

Letting out a barely audible breath, Lambo turned his head to the thick, metal door. There were no windows in his cell, and the walls were a dreary tan color. There was no break in the monotony except for a faint sound of the crackling flames that lit his prison. As far as he could tell, he was the lone occupant of the jail.

His internal clock, which had automatically reset when he saw the noonday sun in his previous 'adventure', told him it was approximately 5-6 PM the same day.

For several hours Lambo lay there, an occasional mumble or growl from his stomach reminding him he hadn't eaten since he had rescued Lampo. At least he knew that the greenette was safe, as that was the only way they could've discovered his identity.

Which brought another slew of problems. How had Lampo managed to see him? Was there a Vongola spy watching him the entire time? Either one did not bode well with him; both meant that his sixth sense had failed him, which had never happened before. A thoughtful look came into Lambo's eye. Unless, of course, the little son of a lord actually had some further mafia training other than the whole 'send the coward into the front lines with a shield.' He decided on this option, as Lampo probably wouldn't have survived this far without more abilities.

An hour later, which Lambo used to put the proper dates into place, a small pot of white _something _was handed in through a flap he hadn't noticed in the door. Lambo slowly walked to the pot, muttering a small "Thank you" in case the server could still hear him. He picked up the pot and examined it for the telltale signs of poison.

The white gruel was likely cold and congealing, but it was better than nothing. There was no undissolved bits of powder floating about, nor was there the gleam of oil on the top when he raised it to the light, so Lambo steeled himself and lifted the pot to his lips. The sludge was disgusting and went down slowly, but beggars can't be choosers.

After all the gruel was gone, Lambo wiped his lips on the back of his hand and sat back down on the cot to organize his thoughts. Not like he had anything better to do.

The Vongola Primo was approximately thirty years old, which meant that it had been about a decade since Vongola had been founded as a vigilante group. If _Vongola: A History_ was correct, it was at this point in time that this group of protectors was slowly becoming more and more mafia. The start, if you will. Daemon-here Lambo sneered-had not yet betrayed Vongola, nor was his lover(E something) dead.

Vongola was beginning its upwards spiral into power, and Lambo was not foolish enough to think he could stop it. Even if Daemon didn't betray Primo and his Guardians, the ball was already set in motion. Vongola would become too mafia for Giotto, who would hand over the bloody throne to someone he thought competent. Or perhaps join it with the Simon _famiglia. _But Lambo was certain that there was not a man in this time period virtuous enough to lead Vongola back to the straight and narrow path.

As Lambo mused upon the various idiosyncrasies of time travel and paradoxes, a pair of footsteps began to echo in the halls of the dank prison.

Lambo stopped to listen, his posture falsely relaxed as though the gaze of the footsteps could see him now. They stopped in front of his door. From what he could tell from the footsteps, they were sharp. Determined, almost predatory. Purposeful. _Familiar._

A faint purple glow briefly shone through the thin crack of the doorway, which wasn't big enough to fit a fingernail. Lambo swallowed hard and felt his heartbeat pick up involuntarily before forcibly calming it. This opponent would be harder to fool than Giotto, his cunning intelligence and animalistic instincts allowing him to pick up more than the sometimes unreliable intuition of his boss.

The door swung open with what seemed to be a pitying breeze to reveal an imposing figure. He had platinum blonde hair and piercing blue eyes, showing no hatred or particular dislike for the prisoner, but a hidden blood lust. Lambo felt chills running down his spine.

Lambo shut his eye for a second as flashes of another skylark raced through his mind before he felt a sudden weight surrounding his wrists. Opening his eye, the view of the silvery handcuffs confirmed his guess.

Alaude hauled him to his feet by his arm, keeping an iron grip in case Lambo tried to escape again.

"We can do this the easy way or the hard way, criminal." **(1)**Alaude said, pushing Lambo in front of him. He pulled a handkerchief out of his trench coat and tied it firmly around Lambo's eyes. The Cloud Guardian spun him around a couple times then tossed him over his shoulder and exited the room. He felt the blonde mounting the stairs and returning to the mansion. Lambo was spun around again then tossed back onto the shoulders of his captor. He made no attempt to struggle, hopefully gaining the 'easy way.'

Alaude turned several times, eventually going down a stair case and into a room. He stopped and set Lambo down none too gently. Still blind and handcuffed, he was pushed into a chair and felt another weight encircle his ankles, probably chaining him to the chair. The blindfold was taken away from his eyes, and one jade orb opened to observe his surroundings warily.

Alaude stood in front of him in another cement room. It was dark, the only light coming from a dim, flickering bulb hanging somewhere behind him.

"How do you know 'of' Lampo's father?" Alaude knew that there was a high possibility of the man bound before him being related to Lampo. He was also able to defeat one of Daemon's illusions, had a deceased family, and a tortured mind. They, being the Guardians and Giotto, had discussed what they knew of Lambo. Much to Alaude's ire, his information network wasn't able to find a single trace of the brunet before yesterday. No train tickets, no boats, _nothing._

Lampo weighed his words carefully. "I am descended from him."

Alaude said nothing as he mentally tucked away the strange wording and continued questioning him. He was both glad and frustrated with the easy response. "That didn't answer my question. How do you know him?"

"My mother often lamented about my father." Lambo mentally patted himself on the back, the memories no longer bringing any pain to him. His mother had always been upset with his father about his recurring mistresses. He had been the only available outlet. Now he got to benefit from it.

"Why did you rescue Lampo?" Alaude asked, showing no signs of suspicion, much to Lambo's relief.

"I didn't know it was him at the time. I just thought I was rescuing a civilian." Lambo answered easily, glad for the lack of thinking required for this one.

"How old are you?"

"25."

And so the questions continued on and on, each of them answered with either careful wording or omitting.

Finally, after two hours of interrogation, Lambo was mentally exhausted and Alaude was somewhat satisfied.

"I will allow you the benefit of doubt, but if you harm anyone here..." Alaude left the threat hanging in the air, the promise of pain in it. He strode out of the door, his trench coat fluttering behind him. Lambo was still stuck in the room, but at least it no longer had the oppressive aura of the skylark.

It was about 11 o'clock when Alaude left. It was the first time Lambo allowed himself to relax in eight hours.

OoO

**1) **From what I've read, Alaude is like Hibari, but more mature. So, instead of having herbivore/omnivore/carnivore, Alaude will call anyone he disdains criminal. Anyone else is…whatever he feels like, I dunno.

By the way, did anyone catch the outlet pun? I couldn't resist, sorry. I have a weakness for puns.

Also, to clear some things up, this is going to be a pretty long first fanfic. I'm planning on at least 20 plot chapters, not including the fillers. Heck, this chapter was supposed to go a different way, but the characters steered themselves in another direction. So now I have to edit my little chapter planner.


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